


Hey! Murkoff! Leave Us Meddling Kids Alone!

by NovaTale



Category: Outlast (Video Games)
Genre: 80's AU, 80's Music, 80'sLast (Outlast), Breakfast Club AU, Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-08
Updated: 2020-07-08
Packaged: 2021-03-04 17:34:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25140214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NovaTale/pseuds/NovaTale
Summary: Previously titled "Out-Fast Club"Mostly Miles/Waylon-centricI'm taking a lot of liberties so don't expect accuracy, I'm going off what I know, watched, and listened to from movies, songs, and my parents own stories.(This is my first time writing publicly and my first time writing something that I plan to add chapters to than just personal oneshots)I might add images to this later when I have the time or when I'm not stressed(I will add more tags when I update more chapters, so please be patient)Note: I have never lived in NewYork. I've only been there once on a feild trip, so I have no idea what I'm doing. Send help.
Relationships: Waylon Park/Miles Upshur
Comments: 1
Kudos: 14





	Hey! Murkoff! Leave Us Meddling Kids Alone!

**Author's Note:**

> Songs that go with this chapter in order:
> 
> 1: Bloody Well Right - Supertramp  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iaxAZYQB44o

The park was busy, crowded with men holding newspapers, women watching their children running and screaming about. Buildings reaching higher than the young man has ever seen. Sounds of the city on a constant hum, like the heart of a well-oiled machine. A sign of a new age, a new life. You could become anything you could possibly want in these streets.

_That's just how NewYork is, baby_.

Smoke rose upwards towards the clear blue sky, so clear that it shone too much and didn't reflect the young man's mind. Reflecting on this, he wished his mind would stop buzzing, always broken words or sounds he's heard from the radio or TV. It's been like this since he was little. Kids would make fun of his strange mannerisms. After watching so much Star Trek he decided it was only because he was different that people disliked him. Different because people are inherently afraid of change or something new. So after that, he never dwelled on it. But he did try to suppress it as much as he could just to catch a break from everything he was dealing with.

He inhaled deeply tasting ash and the cold September air of the early morning. He looked at his watch. 9:00 am. _Not really early, but y'know_.

Hearing footsteps clammer against the walkway he let out a frustrated breath. Knowing the jig was up.

" Are you Miles? Miles Upshur?" a voice from his left makes it'self known.

The man in question sighs and stomps out his cigarette. Miles should really quit smoking.

" Depends who's askin'..." Green eyes pierce through the other, making them hesitate.

" Miles, you've been skipping three days already, and you haven't even gotten your schedule! If you keep up this delinquent behavior I'll be forced to-"

Delinquent behavior? huh. Miles was known to be a rebellious soul, but something kept bugging him from attending. He had just moved from The rural parts of Boston to upstate NewYork and he already didn't like the noise or the fact he almost got rolled over on his way to the park. But that doesn't matter, He was known to talk back to teachers, tell them they were wrong, stand up to bullies when others couldn't fend for themselves. A true and shining rebel with good morals, but 'delinquent behavior' has got to be a new one.

"Well, in that case, you're bloody well right." Miles gave him a sarcastic smile and turned away leaving the park, not looking back to see if the teaching assistant would follow.

* * *

The teaching assistant eventually catches up to him by the parking lot and offers him a ride. Miles accepts. _It's better than walking,_ He thinks.

On the way to the school, Miles ignores any questions the assistant might have and decides to stare out the window instead. He watches as the countless people become a blur past his window, wishing he could leap out of the car and run far away where no one would find him and drag him back to this hellhole.

They start to slow down, signaling they are arriving at the school grounds. The place is _massive_ , very befitting of its name. They pass by an intricate sign reads: "Mount Massive Memorial High" in shiny gold letters. _Too bad Miles can't read cursive_.

He arrives in through a side door while everyone bustles about to their second class. He drags his feet reluctantly, palms already sweating from being around people. So he hides them in his pockets and feigns nonchalance and indifference when the teaching assistant looks to see if he's still following.

They arrive at the office and Miles' heart is _pounding_. The door shuts with a SLAM, that has Miles flinching. He looks back at the secretary to see her steely gave already upon him up through her pink spectacles. She takes them off and sighs, already guessing who he might be.

"Mister Upshur..." She begins, " I'll have you know this kind of behavior is unacceptable. We are a prestige school, as we have an image to uphold." They really weren't. Just because they were accepting "donations" from the rich governor doesn't mean they suddenly were 'all that and a bag of chips' in Miles' words, at least. Something was going on here and he intended to find out what. That's why he was here.

Oh. She was still talking. He should listen, it's probably important. Nah, he doesn't feel like it. Oh, she's staring at him expectantly. He should say something. What should he say? He doesn't know.

He quirks a brow. Honestly, it was a muscle twitch but she doesn't have to know that. She closes her eyes and breathes. She repeats herself, " Do you understand what I said, Mister Upshur."

" Yes ma'am." Miles gave a mock salute. She sat back and closed her eyes making them roll into the back of her head harshly. She looked like she wanted to jump over the desk and throttle him. She wouldn't be the first.

"Your dorm is room 2536, _Upshur_." She adds with venom. He can tell it's gonna be a great year.

With that, he's excused and he's making his way to the bulletin board by the front doors. He checks the massive list of dorms for his number. Room 2536, room 2536. Huh, he's got a roomie. Park, Waylon. Must be a transfer student if his name is anything to go by. He makes his way through the winding halls looking for his room, his stuff might already be there if his timing is anything to go by.

* * *

Miles huffs after running up so many flights of steps, He bends over clutching his knees. He feels light-headed and his knees begin to shake, a warning of giving out from underneath him soon. With one final gasp, he reaches up to the doorknob and pushes in, stumbling. He wheezes as he shuts the door behind him and sinks down along the door.

When he finally has energy, he opens his eyes just to have his breath taken away by rich orange-brown eyes through tortoiseshell glasses that he could find himself sinking into if he's not careful. He starts hacking because he forgot how to breathe. _Nice one Miles, great first impression_ , he thinks to himself. The brown eyes looking his way become even more perplexed, worried, and only slightly alarmed. The man opens his mouth but Miles stops him.

"Miles, Miles Upshur." He points to himself.  
  


The younger man thinks, eyes squinting as if searching for something in the air, and then suddenly, recognition. He smiles at him and extends a hand for Miles to take.

"Waylon Park. Nice to... meet you?" he laughs freely. Miles finally accepting the hand, expecting to shake, but being lifted up with surprising strength from the younger one.

Miles chuckles a little. "Yeah not my ideal first impression, to be honest."

Miles and Waylon are almost the same height. It's hard to tell which one is tallest, what with Miles wearing boots and Waylon in his loafers.

"Here, I'll show you around, Miles." Waylon says, adjusting his glasses and guiding Miles by the shoulder of his Wool-lined work jacket.

Maybe this won't be so terrible as he was dreading to begin with if he's already made a friend.


End file.
